


Burning Up

by Cake_isnt_pie_sam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smoking Kink, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cake_isnt_pie_sam/pseuds/Cake_isnt_pie_sam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam comes home early from school and catches Dean smoking on the hood of the impala. He wants to say it's gross--he wants to say it's bad for Dean. But in reality? He can't stop watching and he doesn't really know why. He can't pull his eyes away from Dean's mouth wrapping around the filter. It's just so damned intriguing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Up

**Author's Note:**

> (I don't own SPN or the boys. Comments very much appreciated!)
> 
> Okay so this was written a while back during the other smoking fic drabble I wrote in May? I didn't realize that I hadn't posted this from Tumblr to my Ao3! So here it is AND I'm writing a part two. So stay tuned. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam sighed, the gravel of their rental house driveway crunching under his feet. He wasn’t particularly heartbroken there’d been a power outage at school and everyone had to be sent home. He’d learned the quadratic formula 4 other times in 3 other states, anyways. Dad was a few towns over on a hunt, and so it was a rare occasion that Sam would rather spend time at home anyway. Just Dean. No dad. That thought alone relaxed him noticeably.   
  
He trudged up to the front porch to dump his backpack off unceremoniously inside the front door, but stopped when he heard it. Dean’s music, not coming from inside, but from somewhere over to Sam’s left. He glanced up, and sure enough, there was Dean, stretched out on the hood of his precious car, blaring Zeppelin out of the speakers. Sam snorted. What was he doing, looking for shapes in the clouds?   
  
He dumped his backpack on the porch and went to go tease his brother about his choice of pastime when he saw it. Sam stopped in his tracks, feet from the car, his features shifting into confusion.   
  
“…Dean?”   
  


xx

  
  
Dean enjoyed days like this. He enjoyed the warm air, the cool breeze, and most of all, his music. He normally killed time while Sam was at school by washing his car or picking up chicks at the diner in town. Today was different. He dropped Sam off at school and just stayed in the impala, listening to his favorite Zeppelin tape.   
  
After about an hour, he climbed onto the hood of the car, laying back against the windshield. Legs crossed out in front of him, he stared at the sky, clear except a few lone clouds. He coulda swore one of them looked like the amulet Sam gave him years ago. Mindlessly, his hand raised to touch the small figure on the necklace. He wondered if Sam was doin’ alright at school. Now that Dean wasn’t there to look after him, he was always worried that someone might start trouble.   
  
He breathed out a sigh, shaking his head. Sam was nearly fifteen. He could handle himself, right?   
  
Dean reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and looked around as a habit. Of course, he knew Sam still had quite a few hours until he was outta school. He placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes.   
  
No less than three minutes later, he heard a voice over Jimmy Page’s vocals.His eyes shot open as he jumped, hopping off the impala, eyes wide.   
  
“Shit, Sam. You scared the crap outta me,” he barked at his little brother.   
  
Sam stared back, even more startled at his brother’s surprise. It wasn’t often that Dean Winchester got caught off guard. Sam glanced down at Dean’s hand where the lit cigarette dangled between two practiced fingers. He swallowed in attempt to dissipate the lump growing in his throat, glancing back up at Dean’s face to meet wide green eyes.   
  
“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, suddenly unable to keep Dean’s gaze. He fidgeted with the collar of his polo. Huh. He didn’t remember it being so hot out today. “You know dad would kill you if he saw that,” he said finally, nodding down where Dean’s hand dangled by his side.   
  
Dean finally recovered from his shock and remembered he still had the cigarette in his hand. He glanced down at it quickly and hopped back onto the hood. He finally huffed out a laugh, a grin sliding easily across his face.   
  
“Who do ya think I got ‘em from, Sammy?” He raised the cig to his mouth and took a long pull, staring at Sam while he did it.   
  
Sam swallowed again, willing his throat muscles to hurry up and start acting normal. (Ha. Normal. As if, Sam.) He gave Dean one of his patented bitchfaces.   
  
“Really, Dean? Something tells me dad wouldn’t exactly hand you a pack of cigarettes.”   
  
Dean leaned to his side, toward Sam and blew the smoke into his face. “Well, he shouldn’t leave ‘em sitting out when he leaves town,” he said, leaning back on his elbows, still eying Sam. “Speaking of pissing Dad off, why aren’t you at school?” He raised an eyebrow in question.   
  
Sam rolled his eyes. He should have guessed. Of COURSE dad didn’t know. If he did, he’d have Dean’s hide. Much of their childhood had been along the lines of “do as I say, not as I do”. Until it came to hunting, that is. He snorted when Dean brought up “dad” and “school” in the same sentence.   
  
“Power outage,” he said simply with a shrug, nudging Dean to move over on the hood so Sam could stretch out on the sun-warmed metal next to him.   
  
The smell of the smoke wafting toward him from between Dean’s fingers should make him want to choke on his own breath. But it doesn’t. Instead, it makes his heart beat faster, his nerves stand on end. Must just be some nicotine contact-high or something. Those can happen, right? Sam shrugged off the thought. Too much thinking, Sam. Stop that.   
  
Dean let Sam nudge him over to the side of the hood. He knew Sam wouldn’t ditch school like he used to. He was too smart for that. Again, he let his back rest on the windshield as he raised the cigarette to his lips. His eyes fell closed as he inhaled deeply. He didn’t need the cigarette anymore. Sam was there next to him, after all. He rather enjoyed the burning in his lungs, though.   
  
Sam eyed his brother for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes lidded themselves when he breathed in the hazy smoke. Smoking was bad for you. Sam had been in enough health classes in enough high schools to know that. But somehow, when Dean did it…it looked…well. Different.   
  
In health class, cigarettes look like something that could kill you. But Sam knew his brother. And he knew that Dean was deadlier than any carcinogenic stick of herbs he put between his lips. His lips….Sam chanced a glance at Dean’s lips as they wrapped around the filter of the cigarette. Oh. Shit. Sam DEFINITELY didn’t remember it being this warm out on his walk home from school.   
  
“Smoking is bad for you, you know,” was all he could say, the insincere words tumbling out of his mouth and sounding every bit like he hardly meant them.   
  
Dean let the smoke tumble from his mouth as he spoke. “And so is hunting windigos and werewolves, Sammy,” he said simply. Honestly, either of them would be lucky to make it to thirty if they kept on keepin’ on. Hunters had a pretty short lifespan and they both knew it. Dean’s tongue slid across his bottom lip. “Plus, they feel good,” he added as an afterthought.   
  
Sam furrowed his brow and clamped his lips shut to prevent the words from tumbling out of his mouth (“They look good, too”), and thankfully, this once, he was successful.   
  
All he did was nod. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, you’re a Winchester. No way a cigarette is gonna kill you.” He pulled his lips into a tight smile, but it was getting hard to breathe. And not because of the second hand smoke. It took Sam a long moment to figure out why.   
  
Oh no. Oh NO. He fucking LIKED it. He’d always hated smoking. Always hated when their dad did it in the Impala, even if he rolled the window down. But somehow, when Dean did it….. _oh, fuck no_.


End file.
